


I Can Resist Everything But Temptation

by ih3artgerm, tsukidrama



Series: Hell or High Water [Yelena] [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Semi-Public Sex, much more satisfying smut to come in chapter 2 i just hit 9k words so far and i gotta split this up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 07:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30051966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ih3artgerm/pseuds/ih3artgerm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukidrama/pseuds/tsukidrama
Summary: After somebody walks in on one of you and Yelena's trysts in a storage closet, you realize that you care about your relationship with her more than you thought.
Relationships: Yelena (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader
Series: Hell or High Water [Yelena] [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2210784
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	I Can Resist Everything But Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> well, that last Yelena fic blew up in a way that i did not expect. since everybody seemed to like "Give the Devil Her Dues" so much i decided to give in to the many (many) requests and went ahead to write a sequel fic for it. like before i got carried away, this woman possesses me, and i definitely have no lack of inspiration when it comes to her. but i had to cut it in half because it got too damn long!! part 2 incoming

You’re surprised Yelena waits as long as it takes for the Hizuru delegation to be escorted to the capitol to approach you. 

You exchanged glances at the dock, before their ship even arrived once Eren had been shuffled out of her view. As the military and the delegation began to prepare for the trip back to the Walls, you purposefully linger off to the side by yourself in the hopes that you might feel a familiar tug pulling you behind a pile of shipping crates. You even climb aboard the Azumabito ship and take a look around, just in case you might find Yelena with her arms crossed, leaning against a cabin wall with a sultry grin only to ask you what took so long. 

You don’t come across her. In fact, you don’t even  _ see  _ her again until you’re inside the palace, while everybody reconvenes after the journey. As the diplomatic ensemble walks through a large archway leading to an open ballroom, you linger behind when you see Yelena leaning against a pillar off to the side. 

She grins when she sees you, and shoves her hands deep in her pockets. Your walk turns into a sprint as you clear the spacious, now-empty hallway. 

You stop a few feet in front of her. “It’s good to see you,” you say, breathlessly. 

“Same to you,” she nods in acknowledgement, her eyes raking over your body. “I take it you’re eager to get away.” The corner of her lips curl up into a devious smirk. 

You flush, and wring your hands nervously. “I’ve missed you,” you admit. 

Her eyes gleam, and she all but licks her lips at you. “Meet me in the storage closet on the floor beneath this one,” she says, standing to her full height, “the one next to the kitchens. 15 minutes.” 

You nod, and try to gulp down the lump in your throat to no avail. Yelena begins to walk away, but before she passes you, her hand comes to rest on your shoulder gently. You look up at her, and your heart pounds in your chest as she looks at you with a different, softer look in her eye. 

“I’ve missed you too,” she says softly. 

Butterflies dance and twirl within you, and blood rushes in your ears while you watch her walk away. You press your thighs together, already aching for her touch, and try to figure out how you’ll explain your sudden absence to your fellow soldiers. 

Fifteen minutes later, after slipping away and rushing down the nearest flight of stairs, you predictably find yourself standing next to the door, just inside the storage closet next to the kitchens. You’re already working to undo your uniform so it can slip off more easily. As you’re unfastening your maneuvering gear and the buckles on your belts and pants, you hear something in the distance. 

Quick and familiar footsteps approach the door, and come to stop right outside. Your heartbeat quickens as the doorknob rattles. Then finally, slowly, it opens. 

Uneven sheets of blonde hair hang over dark, steely eyes. She anticipates your presence as much as you do hers, and quickly steps inside to close the door behind her. Neither of you say a word, and somehow the silence feels deafening. 

Yelena takes a single step forward before you grab her by the collar, rising up onto your toes. You pull her back toward a clear area in the closet, wrapping your arms around her neck. With a chuckle she shakes off her coat and plops down on a wooden box, where you are quick to climb atop her to straddle her. 

You kiss her first, and you feel the surprise in Yelena’s reaction when she takes a moment to respond to your touch. When she stirs to life, she deepens the kiss and slips her hand past your open shirt. For a moment, her touch lingers on your skin before she begins to tug at the fabric. 

Yelena’s hands are on your shoulders, pushing back both your shirt and your uniform jacket in one smooth motion. They fall behind you unceremoniously and are quickly forgotten about as you begin to unbutton Yelena’s shirt. 

Hands wander across your body, encircling around your waist and pushing past any fabric that remains. Long fingers slink up your back, counting each vertebrae and dragging her fingernails down the curves of your body. You shiver, and she holds you steadily until she slides her hands back up underneath the band of your bra. She fumbles with the clasp for a few moments, and nibbles on your bottom lip in an effort to distract you. 

It works, and you gasp, responding immediately. Yelena’s lips reattach to the side of your neck, kissing gently until she manages to undo the bra. You whine, and buck your hips into hers. You can’t get any closer, but her thigh rubs against you in an unexpectedly good way. Yelena pulls the straps down your shoulders, and you toss the bra aside without a second thought. 

“What do you want?” she purrs, into your skin. You shiver, and grind into her. 

“Touch me,” you say breathlessly, and you grab one of her hands with your own to press it against your breast. She doesn’t respond out loud, but with the way her fingers dig into your skin, you don’t need her to. 

Something inside of you trembles when she drags her tongue from the base of your neck to your jaw, licking slowly and deliberately enough to make you convulse. You hold her face in your hands, kissing her deeply. One of Yelena’s arms tightens around you and pulls you into her, while the other stays cupping your breast. 

Her fingers catch your nipple between the knuckles, and she gently rubs it between her finger. That, and the combined pressure of her lips on your neck, leaves you arching your back, pressing your body against hers as tightly as you can. 

Desperately, you grind up against her as closely as you can with clothes still between you. Yelena hums into your skin, and it feels so good that you almost don’t hear the footsteps in the hallway. 

Almost. 

Your head snaps backward, and you stare at the light coming through the bottom of the door looking for movement. 

“Do you hear that?” you pant, grasping at her hair. 

“It’s nothing,” she murmurs between kisses, and tweaks your nipple again, “no one has any reason to come in here. It’s just you and me.”

Despite your worries, you feel yourself melting into her touch again (as if you had a choice, with the way she’s devouring your neck). Just as you’re about to let you guard down again, you hear what is unmistakably footsteps again, and much closer this time. 

“Yelena? Did I see you wander off around here?” A new voice, smoother with an unfamiliar accent, cuts through the muffled noises of soft moans and breathless whimpers. This time, the light underneath the floor is blocked by the silhouettes of two feet. 

The door handle jiggles, and a heavy creak accompanies a beam of light that shines onto the wall off to your right. The both of you jump, and you freeze like a deer in headlights. 

“Oh shit,” Yelena hisses, “It’s the ambassador.” She stiffens, straightening her back to sit up fully. Your forehead bumps into her chest as she knocks you off balance, though she doesn’t leave you feeling unsupported. 

Yelena’s forearms brace against your bare back, and her hands splay out protectively to cover what skin she can. It doesn’t really cover much though, and, humiliated, you slap a hand over your mouth as you fully realize what someone is about to get an eyeful of. 

A petite middle aged woman steps into the closet, squinting in the darkness. “What was it that you wanted to speak to me about? I just finished up with -- oh!” she too freezes as the light fully illuminates the storage room, and you, shirtless, wrapped up in Yelena’s lanky embrace watching out of the corner of your eye. 

Her face drops, and she immediately looks off to the side. After a long, awkward pause, she tilts her head back to look at the ceiling, and she giggles nervously. “Oh, um. I didn’t realize -- I’ll uh, here, I’ll just be going and --” 

Yelena finally interrupts her, her voice rumbling against you as she speaks. “Miss Azumabito. I didn’t think you intended for us to speak until after you met with the Queen today.” 

“Of course, that was my mistake. I assumed you would be alone.” Kiyomi stammers, fumbling with the doorknob. She can’t get it, and has to look down before she’s able to grasp and twist the metal knob, “Though I can see that your ah, attentions, are elsewhere at the moment.” 

“I appreciate your incentive,” Yelena responds, and her arms tighten around you for a brief, but noticeable, moment, “but perhaps another time might be better for the conversation you had in mind.” 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you hiss into her chest. She shoots a wild-eyed look down at you. 

The dark-haired ambassador laughs uncomfortably, and puts both of her hands on the door, “Yes, that seems appropriate,” she says, and the door creaks open once more. Kiyomi begins to shuffle out awkwardly, “I’ll find you again later tonight. Or rather, I’ll let you find me. Yes, I think that might be better with all things considered.” 

The door closes with a heavy thud, and you can hear Kiyomi continue to chatter on to herself out in the hallway, though you tune her out as her footsteps recede into the distance. 

You don’t wait for Yelena to release you before you start squirming out of her grasp. Her arms loosen around you as your struggle, and you take the opportunity to wrench her forearm away from your body. 

“What the fuck was that? What happened to ‘nobody has any reason to come in here?’” you seethe. She lets go of you, and puts her hands up in surrender. You stumble off of her lap, and snatch up your shirt and jacket where they fell.

“And what about, ‘I appreciate your incentive?’” you spit out, flipping the jacket until you find the right hole in which to shove your arm through, “Fuck! You didn’t even tell her to leave.” 

Yelena shrugs, and adjusts her shirt back into its usual position. “She left on her own. It’s not a big deal.” 

As you try to find the other arm hole, you realize that you’ve put your shirt on backwards. You yank it off, flip it around, and then shove your arms back through the sleeves, the right way this time. 

You huff, and finally fire back. “Says you! What if she tells the military? I don’t need my superiors knowing that--” 

Yelena looks at you pointedly. “That you’re fucking me?” she interrupts. 

Her directness catches you off guard, and you take a moment to consider your response. Your brain is going a mile a minute, and what eventually makes its way out is: 

“…yeah.”

Deft fingers re-button her shirt while Yelena laughs dryly, and void of all amusement. “Huh. I didn’t think you were so ashamed of being with me.” 

“Fuck off, Yelena. It’s not like we’re actually together anyway.” 

Her face drops. She’s silent for several long moments, and she swallows before she speaks again. 

“Aren’t we?” she asks, and you could swear that you heard her voice crack. 

Despite her reaction, shame and rage takes over you. “It’s not like you ask me out to nice dinner dates, or get me flowers, or kiss me goodnight. Don’t act like you’ve ever planned a date, or ever sprinkled rose petals on the bed… fuck!” you exclaim, and grab your hair, “I just realized that we haven’t ever had sex in a bed at all. Just anywhere else, as long as nobody’s looking.” 

For once, Yelena doesn’t seem to have a response. Her lips are screwed up in disdain, and her gaze is shadowed. She straightens her collar, and begins to re-button her shirt. 

Annoyed by her silence, you huff and cross your arms. “Do you even care about me?” 

Yelena still doesn’t answer, and just smoothes her clothes out. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she rises to her feet, shuffling in place and shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. 

“It’s not so black and white,” she finally says, her gaze averted. Her face darkens, and in the dim lighting you can’t tell what emotion lies behind it. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The words come out far more scornful than you mean them to, but your blood is running far too hot for you to stop yourself. You scoff, though an awful mixture of dread and insecurity pools inside of you. 

Yelena’s face is still shadowed. “I don’t know,” she says, and fixes her collar. 

“I’ll leave you alone, then,” you mutter angrily, re-dressing yourself all too quickly and doing a rather sloppy job at it. “You obviously have business to handle with other people, and now you have something to gossip about, too.” Your cheeks burn, and you feel like you’re about to burst into tears. 

“Rest assured that the Azumabitos have no motive to expose you to your military.” Yelena says, and takes a step towards the door, “and any gossip that occurs will be just that. Gossip.”

Before she crosses the entire distance of the rather small closet, you grab her by the elbow to stop her in her tracks. 

“I’m afraid that you won’t come back,” you blurt, “ever, I mean.” Fear takes over your voice, despite your attempts to shove your feelings deep down inside of you. 

She doesn’t say anything at first, and for a moment you worry that she’ll leave without saying another word. Thankfully, Yelena does turn around to look down at you. 

“It sounds like you don’t want to see me anymore,” she says, an emotionless mask on her face. 

“I do want to see you,” you say quickly, and you’re disgusted by how much it sounds like you’re begging, “but I want you to care about me, too.” 

“I do,” she says, though still emotionless. 

“About  _ me _ , not just about fucking me.” 

Yelena blanches, and looks above your head for a few long moments before her expression clears. She nods, and then meets your eyes again. 

“Okay,” she says. 

She does not elaborate, and you don’t ask her to. You’re pleasantly surprised she’s still standing there in front of you, so you let go of her arm, and nod as well. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

The two of you sit in silence for a long time, looking at one another. You aren’t sure how long passes before Yelena reaches for the doorknob. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, before pushing the door open. 

You nod. “Where?” 

Yelena’s usual devious smile comes back to light up her face. “I’ll find you,” she says, and with that, twists the knob and pushes the door open. Before she slips out of the door and out of sight, you catch a glimpse of an expression on her face that’s unfamiliar to you, and it haunts you for the rest of the night. 

Later, after you make your way back upstairs, you stand off to the side for the rest of the welcoming ceremony. You tune out the chatter around you, and think over and over about the interaction you’ve just had with Yelena until your head is swimming with thoughts, and a thousand million explanations and overanalyzations of what, and why. 

That night, when you’re lying in bed wide awake staring at the ceiling, all of a sudden it hits you what that unidentifiable expression was -- guilt. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you’re consumed with doubt. 

The next day, you go through the motions. Meetings and planning go over your head as you continue to fixate on last night’s interaction. You sit impatiently through guard duty (which was a terrible idea, considering that you’re pretty sure that for your entire shift you stare at the same brick on the wall lost in thought). 

After dinner, as you’re walking out of the mess hall, you spot Yelena in the distance. Like before, she perks up when she sees you, but this time she’s the one to close the gap between you. She doesn’t say anything, and just holds out a folded note. In the crease of the note is a small flower, a small white one that you recognize as one of the ones that grows in the grass nearby. A warmth spreads in your chest when you realize she picked it for you. 

Yelena smiles surprisingly softly, without any of the usual crazed delight behind it. You take the note from her, and tuck the flower behind your ear. Her eyes widen, and she touches a lock of your hair underneath where the flower sits. 

“Midnight, okay?” Yelena bites her bottom lip as she looks at you, “I’ll see you there.” She squeezes your shoulder, and winks at you before she walks off without another word. Though she doesn’t give you time to respond even if you wanted to, you don’t think you could have summoned words even if you tried. 

You unfold the note and hold it up to read her scribbled note: “Room 15 at the Camellia Inn. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. --Y ” 

Face heating up and heartbeat pounding in your chest, you clutch the note to your chest, and suppress an excited squeal. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The Camellia Inn is four blocks away from the military barracks, and the cold night air makes the short journey a brisk and refreshing walk. It’s easy to find, thanks to a huge and brightly painted sign swinging from the awning. The doors face the street, with only the lights from the street lamps illuminating the walkway in front. 

It takes until you’re stepping onto the walkway until you’re able to read the numbers on the doors. You’re grateful to notice you’re on the correct side of the building when you see a big number 9 on the first door. You quickly make your way past the other numbers, counting until you reach door number 15. 

You stare at the room number, standing out in the cold for nearly a solid minute before you gather the courage to place your hand on the doorknob. Even then, you stare nervously for a moment before you twist it and push. Warmth floods around you as the door opens, and as you step inside you’re greeted with an unexpected sight. 

Yelena sits at the desk on one side of the room, but immediately stands when she sees you enter. She’s wearing her usual outfit, minus the suit jacket which sits draped against the back of the chair. On the other side of the room, the bed has the comforter pulled back, and sprinkled across the sheets are pink and red rose petals. 

Your jaw drops, and you look at Yelena in silence, with the door hanging open behind you. Her cheeks flush as she rises to her feet, standing the moment . She holds her elbow with one hand, both arms behind her back and shifts her feet nervously. Her eyes are surprisingly gentle, and the hunger in her gaze has simmered down into a longing that you find almost comforting. 

“You showed up,” she stammers, “um, you look beautiful.” 

She sounds nervous, and when she looks you up and down, you find that you don’t feel much intimidated by her at all. Nervously, she stretches her suspenders, and lets them snap against her chest. 

Out of surprise, you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up out of your throat. 

“Do I?” you ask nervously. 

“Yeah, you really do,” Yelena says, and takes a step toward you, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of your uniform before.” 

“Well, you kind of have,” you reply, giggling, and finally close the door behind you. 

To your surprise, she blushes. “That’s not what I meant,” she quickly corrects, “you look good in a dress.” 

“Thanks...” you mutter, and you instinctively grab the hem of your skirt. As you fiddle with it, you flip it around to run your thumb along the bumpy texture of the stitches on the underside. Yelena takes a couple more steps forward, and stands next to the end of the bed. 

You take another couple of steps closer as well, until the distance between the two of you is negligible. Yelena lifts a hand and begins to unbutton her shirt. One of your hands drops the skirt, and you touch the side of her hip over the fabric of her pants. 

Yelena leans down, dropping her head down to your height. You rise to your tiptoes, and let your lips part in anticipation. She glances down at your lips, then her eyes wander back up to meet your eyes. 

With your head, you gesture behind her to the rose petals on the bed. “Did you only do that because I made a bitchy comment about it?” you ask. 

“Well, kind of… but I thought it would be nice,” Yelena admits, rubbing the back of her neck nervously, “Do you not like it? I’ll take them off.” She tries to pull out of your embrace, and you have to twist your hands in the fabric of her shirt to make her stay. By accident, you untuck her shirt. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say, “I do like it, and it is nice.” You smooth out her shirt where you had wrinkled it. 

Yelena looks down and smiles softly, and when she looks back up at you, the look in her eyes is so gentle and radically different than it normally is that it actually throws you off for a moment. You falter, and she immediately notices something is wrong. Yelena’s face falls, and she stands to her full height again. 

“Is it too much?” she asks sheepishly. . 

“No,” you interrupt. “Not at all.” You grab her shirt again with one hand, and your other reaches up to touch her arm. 

When you try to pull her back in, Yelena looks away. 

“You just seemed really… upset, the other day,” she says. 

“I  _ was  _ really upset.” Your voice is even, though you can tell she knows you aren’t keen on dredging up the topic again. 

“I know,” she says quickly, “and I understand why. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” 

You don’t say anything, and just look at her without much emotion. 

When Yelena rubs the back of her neck, her apprehension becomes more clear to you. “I can assure you that our secret is safe with Miss Azumabito. She is a woman of many secrets herself, and what two people do behind closed doors is the least of her concerns.” 

You roll your eyes. “I wish it had been the least of her concerns last night.” 

Yelena laughs nervously, and nods. “Don’t we all? Anyway, she asked me to extend her deepest apologies to you for what happened.” 

“Oh, wonderful. The two of you talked about me!” you exclaim, and take a step off to the side, out of her grasp. 

“Not beyond what I told you. She just apologized and that’s all that was said.” Yelena assures you. She reaches for your arm. 

You say nothing and arch an eyebrow at her, looking down at where her hand is wrapped around your forearm. Finally, you look back up at her, and after a few seconds she shrugs and breaks your gaze again. 

“There was one more thing that the ambassador wanted to know, actually.” 

The words send an ice-cold shiver down your spine. “About me?”

“Yes,” Yelena nods, still looking down, “she asked how long we had been together for.” 

“What did you say?” you ask. Your heart sits in your throat as a tight, hard lump. Blood rushes in your ears loudly, and you feel nearly dizzy when you look up at her. Something inside your stomach twists, and you’re gripped with nerves as you prepare yourself for rejection, or at the very least to be insulted at how seriously she doesn’t take you. 

Yelena’s cheeks redden, and she avoids your gaze. “I said we’d been seeing each other for about a year.” 

The sickening twisting in your gut unclenches, and a weight lifts from your shoulders. 

“Oh,” you say, pleasantly surprised. You didn’t expect a positive reaction, much less such a reassuring one, and it throws you off. You stumble over your words as you struggle to put your thoughts into words. 

“Okay, yeah,” you stammer, “I’m uh, I didn’t think -- I don’t want to assume -- ” 

“You didn’t think I was keeping track.” Yelena interrupts flatly. 

Immediately, you fall silent as her gaze falls back onto you. Guilt washes over you for doubting her when you see the look on her face, twisted in a grimace. She looks legitimately offended for a moment, but it quickly fades into disappointment. Directed at what, you do not know. 

You concede with a sigh. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” 

“Of course I’ve kept track,” Yelena says, and she looks sad enough that your heart shatters for ever thinking that she wouldn’t, “It’s been a year and a month since that first night on the beach.” 

You nod. “Yeah, I remember.” Frowning as the guilt bubbles up again, your eyebrows furrow, and you look off into the distance. One year, a month, and four days. 

Yelena touches your upper arm with unanticipated tenderness. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, no. I’m not upset,” you say, and suddenly realize that you’ve indeed been pulling a face of your own. You take a deep breath, and try to get control of your facial expressions once again. “I’m just surprised you told her that we were together.” 

She chuckles, still a little bit nervously. “There wasn’t much point in denying it after what she saw.” 

You slap her on the arm for the remark. As the palm of your hand collides with her skin, she grabs your wrist. For a second you lock eyes with her as she holds your arm in place, and something inside of your burns dangerously when she smiles slyly and shakes her head disapprovingly. 

Inhaling shakily through your mouth, nearly gasping as you realize she’s starting to lean down. Instinctively you rise onto your toes to meet her, slowly. Time slows down while the both of you forget the conversation at hand, and Yelena releases her grip on your wrist to instead wrap her arms around you. 

Both of your arms reach up to rest atop her shoulders and you feel her breath blow a tuft of hair out of your face. The smirk on her face widens, and you almost can’t bring yourself to disrupt it by pressing your lips against hers. 

Almost. 


End file.
